


Slow and Steady

by kkscatnip (autohaptic)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Established Relationship, Fisting, M/M, Marijuana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 18:44:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autohaptic/pseuds/kkscatnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Two years after Frederick first visits and a year and a half after Red moves in, Ashe decides to do something crazy.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow and Steady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ingenius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenius/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tale of a Modern Thief](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/22260) by ingenius. 



> This is an original fic remix/fanfic for a one-shot fic above. You will get a lot more out of this fic if you read that one first (besides, it's a fucking awesome fic!) but I've been told it works well enough on its own too.

Two years after Frederick first visits and a year and a half after Red moves in (he supposes it's no surprise that he always did find significance in names) Ashe decides to do something crazy: grow plants. On purpose.

He knows it's not actually a crazy idea, the entire growing plants thing, but it feels like madness to go to the store and buy fertilizer and seeds. The best spot, according to all of the pre-dome literature that he can find, is at the very back of the one of the properties that's not on the beach, because the ground is more soil than sand and it gets the most sun. 

There's a lot of other things involved--he spends eight months doing research and waiting for the season to be right--but the end result is that he grows his very first crop of marijuana. Six plants, though they look nothing like the monstrous ones in the pictures from the sources. These are about as tall as his waist and comparatively look a bit stunted, but they have the right blooms on them and smell strongly, the way they're supposed to. 

Ashe harvests, dries, and cures everything worth having with Frederick's help and the day that it's done he makes his first batch of cookies from it. He makes it at a third of the strength they recommend in the recipe, but even so they're faintly green-tinged. There aren't any leafy bits, though; he was careful when he strained the leaves from the butter.

Of _course_ there are synthesized drugs that he can use instead of the actual plant, but it's like sunlight: ain't nothing like the real thing, baby. (He's learning that an awful lot of things in life are like sunlight, which might be distressing if he didn't love sunlight so much.)

Red gets home from work and they do their usual end-of-the-week routine: a sandwich and one beer each, plus an enema for whoever is the lucky one this weekend. Red, actually, cause Ashe had wanted to be rimmed for like an hour really fucking badly last weekend even if it wasn't technically his turn. (Red always indulges Ashe's whims; just another of the ways Ashe is a lucky, lucky man.)

The cookies are waiting for Red afterward. Ashe has already had two, himself, and is feeling a nice little buzz. Frederick eats three, since Ashe ate two, and when Red still feels very little after ten minutes--even though Ashe tells him ten minutes isn't nearly long enough--he eats two more.

Ashe tries to tell him that's likely a bad idea, but Red doesn't seem to care. According to Ashe's sources, the worst a higher dose will do is make him super-relaxed and keep him high for eighteen hours straight, so he doesn't see any reason to stop Red. They have to know what their limits are, after all, and they have the entire weekend ahead of them if the old literature is right.

While they wait for Frederick's dose to take effect, they go out on the beach and stare up at the blue, blue sky and the sparse clouds drifting through. Plus the midday sun--Red only works a quarter-day most Fridays, enough to go in, see that everything is fine, and come back home. They're lucky: not much wind today.

Half an hour later, the first three cookies have kicked in thoroughly and Red is sprawled out on the oversized beach blanket, languishing in the sun like a cat. Ashe can't stop himself from touching Red all over, his hands stroking over Red slowly. From his cheeks to his lips, shoulders, chest, hands, two fingers pressing against the bruise Ashe constantly reinforces on the inside of Red's upper left forearm until Red groans softly and shifts. 

The angle of the sunlight on his face puts half of it in shadow, masking his features, but Ashe hasn't needed to see Red's expression to read him for months and months. He can't say exactly when it happened, but it was one day when Ashe was fucking him that Ashe realized that he could read pleasure in the set if Red's shoulders, read tenseness in the muscles of his neck, feel his orgasm coming on by the trembles that started in his limbs and moved inward from there. 

Right now Red's all sappy smiles, tall, tall body stretched out and ridiculously tanned skin begging for Ashe to keep touching. It's like the sea calling to his blood, except he knows Frederick will only fuck him up in ways that he actually likes. (The first time Ashe went surfing he ended up scraped from his toes to his temples; he didn't let Red top him until he was mostly healed because it was just the wrong kind of pain.)

Red's movements are pure relaxation, one arm stretching above his head as he sighs, blinks slowly and laughs, a short but soft little _heh-heh_ before he looks out at the lively surf. They're long past being worried about dying from it by now, of course, but it's still a powerful sight, and even more so when Frederick's cock twitches. Ashe's twitches in response.

No neighbors means that they rarely wear clothes at the beach; they learned pretty quickly that tan lines were unappealing at best and attracted Ashe to leave marks on the lines besides.

But--Red. And being relaxed. So, so relaxed. He's even more relaxed than Ashe is, which is pretty fucking amazing, considering that Ashe has never before felt so relaxed. All his usual compulsions to make everything orderly, the anxiety from things being perpetually out of order, and just--life--is just gone and the only thing that matters is Red.

Gorgeous, gorgeous Red; tall, dark, and handsome Red; freakishly light-eyed Red. Messy brown-black curls, Red. Ashe leans down and presses a kiss against the jut of Red's hipbone, lips only at first and then teeth too, but not enough to leave a lasting mark. Just enough to make Red groan happily and arch his lower spine, one broad hand cupping over the back of Ashe's head. 

He tastes fucking amazing, like sunlight and salt water and the lingering sweetness of the sugar cookies still on Ashe's tongue. Red doesn't get impatient the way he normally does, instead just letting Ashe do what he wants, mix bites and kisses and sucking and more bites and then rubbing his fingers down the center of the inside of Red's arm, mouth finding the bite mark, the perma-bruise, he reinforces daily on the inside of his left arm.

He scrapes his teeth along the oval mark just to watch Frederick gasp and shudder, grinning when Red just looks down at him with his body language saying _keep going_ and his expression saying _I love your mouth_. It's still easier to interpret the former than the latter, but Ashe doesn't let that stop him from continuing to languish attention on Red's _everything_ for the next he doesn't even know how long.

The midday sun is warming into afternoon sun by the time he actually works his way down to Red's cock and licks a wet stripe from underside to tip. It's the most unhurried he's ever felt about sex; it's the first time Frederick rocking his hips and making that high whine fails to make him _need_ to jump Red's bones now, now, now.

All good things to those who wait, right? "How gone are you?" he asks, out of curiosity. They've done drugs before, just not this drug. Not a lot of downers at all, actually.

Red's smile is wide and beautiful. "High," he says happily, sighing the word out the same way he says Ashe's name after he comes. "Really, really... high."

"And?" Ashe prompts, curious. Natural drug experiences are largely subjective. Almost all of the synthetic stuff affects everyone similarly.

"Relaxed." He closes his eyes for a moment, and opens them again. Slowest blink ever, if it even was a blink. "I feel like... like anything could happen, and it would be... fine. Just fine."

Oh really? "We could try fisting again?" he asks; it's always irked him that Red can fist him, but Ashe can't fist Red in return. Frederick just doesn't know how to make himself relax that much, despite Ashe's best efforts. Being fisted is fucking awesome and Ashe wants him to feel it at least once in his life. 

Red's shrug is slow, like the tides. Like his blink, which he does another of. "We can try. I mean, you. You can try. I'm just going to... to lay here. I think." He gives another of those huffing half-laughs.

For some reason Ashe can't hold back a little half-laugh of his own. Almost a chuckle. "I want to," he murmurs, and presses his lips against Red's.

The way Frederick kisses back is like a flower blooming: slow but steady and _gorgeous_. Delightful. Amazing. Ashe finds himself grinning when he pulls away, then leans in again to nuzzle his face against Red's. They're beginning to sweat, but it doesn't matter. The skin of Red's face feels so loose, none of his usual tight expressions. 

The persistence of the relaxation continues to amaze and please Ashe as they kiss and kiss and kiss; he is going to make sure they never go a weekend without this relaxation again if he can at all help it. He has miles worth of property to grow additional harvests, or he could even contract someone to build a special greenhouse... the possibilities are endless.

It takes a few more minutes before Ashe feels like he should go beyond those sedate kisses. (It's not even a need, then. Just an absent thought: _Maybe I should do more._ ) He presses one hand to Red's neck out of curiosity, pulling away a little so he can see Red's expression. But there's no tension the way that breath play normally brings, not a bit. Red's arms are still spread wide, his head tipped back, low, happy sound coming from that long, long throat as Ashe lets up.

He buries his other hand in those absurdly beautiful curls, the thick ones at the back of Frederick's neck, and pulls. Light at first, watching the pleasure go from Red's toes, which curl, up to his hips, where his cock twitches, his back arching for a moment as Ashe pulls harder. 

Everything is slow motion in the best way possible, and he could happily sit and watch all day.

Maybe he will. Did he bring lube? Well, he did, he just forgot... 

He pulls away for a moment (smiling at Red's whimper-sigh) and rummages through their battered canvas beach bag. There are beach games--a box with metal rings, a frisbee--a few beers, several pairs of sunglasses, sunscreen, and a plastic bag with four types of lube. They used to keep condoms, but it's not like they're fucking anyone else and they both test clean every six months. 

The unscented, water-based lube is the type Ashe likes best; he chooses it and turns back to Red. Who is lazily rubbing his hand back and forth over his stomach, a low, happy hum the only sound he's making in response. It reminds him of taking Rush in a way, with that need-to-be-touched thing, but it doesn't seem like need-to-be-touched. 

It's more... hmm. Just bliss. Everything is bliss, so this is bliss too. As Ashe washes, Red's hand stills and he smiles in that same lazy way. "What position?" he asks, voice drifty, absent.

"Like this," Ashe says without thinking. If there's anything better than Frederick spread out like this for him, he can't think of it. He doesn't want to think of it, since it means he wouldn't be thinking about Red like this anymore. 

Red nods, grinning that sloppy grin he's had on since cookies four through six kicked in. "I can totally do that. See?" He rocks forward and then back, drawing his arms under his knees and pulling them to his chest, hole completely exposed when his back is against the blanket again. 

Wet goddamned dream. Normally it takes an orgasm before Red's that flexible. Ashe leans down, nuzzling the curve of Red's ass, loving how soft it feels against his cheek. He kisses it over and over, adoring the helpless little sounds Red makes, though Red doesn't try and hurry Ashe along. 

All Ashe can think is, _Does getting stoned ever make him subby,_ wow _!_ Normally Frederick demands things things. Everything. Get on with it. Faster. Harder. It's part of why Ashe likes to choke him sometimes. But this is--it's a different kind of wet dream, for sure. 

Experimentally, he bites. Not hard, just light, and Red shudders underneath him, gorgeous, but doesn't tense up the way he normally does. The way it's natural for people to do. 

They are definitely going to do this every weekend for the foreseeable future. Not for the sex, though. For the relaxation, the way that Red looks so languid despite having his knees against his chest. The way Ashe doesn't feel like fucking Red's brains out is a pressing need. A desire, sure, but he can take some time with it.

Every time they fuck at the beach, inevitably there is sand in someone's ass and on someone else's cock, but there's not any when Ashe slides one finger into Red's hole. Red groans happily, and he does tense up, but it's only just a little and it smooths out when Ashe says, "Breathe, Red. Breathe." He's still not anywhere near as tight as he normally is, but there's such a thing as muscle memory.

"Can't help it," Red murmurs, but his words are slow, almost measured. Caaaan't. Heeeelp. Iiiiit. For some reason, it's unbelievably arousing to hear him talk like that.

"Mmmm," Ashe hums, and leans down to press more kisses against Red. His ass at first, the place where Ashe had bitten, and then up to the insides of his thighs, the outsides, his knees; all the while he keeps that one finger working inside of Red.

Low moans, beautiful whimpers, hums and groans--every sound that Frederick makes is pure beauty. Those light eyes don't stay open long, fluttering shut more often than open, though both go wide momentarily when Ashe adds a second finger. 

Red tightens up again, which only makes Ashe smile. "Breeeeathe," he drawls, lips against Red's calf. He bites lightly and moves on to Red's ankle, Red's foot, where he lets his face rest against the sole. There's sand, but there's always sand. He makes a point to brush it off before he kisses Red's instep, his heel, the ball of his foot, and licks up and down once.

It's not that Ashe has a foot fetish, or Red does, or anything. It's more that they're pretty equal opportunity with their kink; leave no stone unturned. Or no kink untried--same difference. 

"This feels amazing," Red says, breathing the words out. 

Ashe curls his fingers inside of Red, who gasps as his body jerks slowly in response. He feels like he should be asking Red if he's ready for more, but doesn't want to hurry this along. They have most of the afternoon and into the evening left; it's mid-summer and the sun sets late these days. Saying nothing, he continues finger-fucking Frederick in slow, even strokes, using his wrist; he'll have time enough to use his entire arm later.

He has no clue how long it is before Red speaks. The sun hasn't moved very far, but it feels like it's been hours. In a good way. "This is amazing. Amazing."

"You said." Ashe laughs, moving his fingers a little faster, but it feels--not-right. Wrong? Maybe just not-right. So he slows back down, Red sighs, and Ashe finds himself smiling again. "More?" 

"Yeah. This... I know, I said it already, but... this feels _amazing_."

Ashe laughs again, a breathless sort of laugh this time, and ends up waiting for it to trail off before he does what Red wants. Third finger. Red groans, and takes deep breaths all on his own this time. Still more relaxed than he normally is for just one finger, which is--nice. Really nice.

Amazing, like Red said. 

"Are you getting cramped yet?" he asks, instead of telling Red exactly how gorgeous he is. It's safer, even after all this time. The way Ashe grew up there are a lot of things you try not to ever say.

Red starts to shake his head, "N--" and then sighs and rocks his hips like he's experimenting. "A little."

 _Thought so._ Ashe helps Red unwrap his arm from behind his knees--the skin is slick with sweat, and he can't resist having a quick taste, delicious salty Red-sweat--and brings his legs down, feet flat on the blanket and knees bent, though he still has his legs spread. "Better?" Ashe asks.

"Yeah. This is--fuck, it's amazing." 

It really is, even if Red's cock is only half-hard. Ashe stares at it for what feels like long moments, at least a minute, and then leans down and sucks it into his mouth. It's been a while since Red's been this soft when the fingering started, but Ashe treasures that feeling. Red's cock getting hard in his mouth, making him go from easily taking it to eyes watering as Red's cock presses against the back of his throat. He takes it for as long as he can and pulls back, panting, but a lot less heavily than he would normally. 

At some point he stopped moving his fingers; he realizes it now and begins again, using his free hand to add a little more lubricant--hadn't they just started a minute ago? But Red needed it, 'cause doing so earns Ashe a happy whimper. His cock twitches in response, having gotten hard when Red's did, but he ignores it.

This isn't about his own need. Or--well, it is. He remembers what it feels like to bear down and feel nothing but Red inside of him, so big that he's filled up all the empty space. Ashe wants badly, so badly, for Frederick to feel that too. No empty space, nothing but Ashe inside of him.

And he wants Red to relax once in a while. To--to let Ashe take care of him, just once a week or so. Ashe probably can't manage more than that. He just wants to take care of Red like this, make him relax, make him let go for a bit. 

"I love you," Red says, drawling it out. 

Iiiiii. Looooveeee. Yooooouuuuuuuu. 

Ashe's heart skips a few beats. They don't really say it. Not in just those three words. It's always _I love your cock_ or _I love the way you're mine_ or things like that. Never just the pure, unadulterated version.

Red says it again, with less drawl this time. "I love you, Ashe."

If not for the fact that Ashe is stoned too, he would be flipping out right now. As it is, he can't look Red in the face and knows his cheeks are red but is strangely okay with it. What does he even say back? If you say _I love you_ to someone, kiss them goodbye. 

But what if they say it to you? What if it's already been years? If you say _I love you_...

In spite of everything, the high is still there and the freaking out has to trail off, so after a couple minutes Ashe swallows back his nervousness and leans down to press a kiss against Red's sack and then against the inside of his thigh. Against his cock. "You too," is what he manages, a low murmur. 

The smile on Red's face is so, so dopey, but it makes Ashe smile too. Then Ashe purposefully presses up against Red's prostate and Red groans and everything is--not tense. Working its way toward relaxed again. 

"More," Red whispers a little bit later, when they're back to the languid place. When Ashe doesn't feel the need to stroke Red's prostate, when Red moans and whimpers despite that fact. When the sun on Ashe's shoulders feels like a delightful burn, and if he shifts he can feel the places that have been shadowed and the ones that haven't. 

Without a word, he adds more lube and his pinky finger. They've gotten this far, before. They know Red can do it, so it's no surprise when he sighs happily and reaches between his legs, fingers just brushing back and forth against the inside of Ashe's arm. "Doesn't hurt," he says happily, bites his lip, and then moans. 

Good. Excellent. Perfect. 

Ashe shifts so he can kiss Frederick for a moment, then resumes the fingering in earnest, settling on a combination of his stomach and one elbow between Red's legs, free hand gripping Red's thigh. 

All Ashe can think is about how beautiful Red is. All tanned skin and dark curls and muscles, those gorgeous muscles that can hold Ashe down or put up a good fight against Ashe doing the same to him. Possibly marijuana is making him a little sappy, but as long as he can blame the drug he'll be fine. He leans up again and bites down on Red's neck before sucking his nipples. Much easier to do steady finger-fucking like that.

"So amazing," Red whispers. 

Ashe murmurs his agreement, and for a time gets lost in reverent worship of Red's body. He doesn't forget the fingering at all this time, making sure to keep an even pace. And Red's cock, though Red starts making hurry-up sounds when Ashe pays too much attention to it, so he just doesn't.

No need to hurry. They have--okay, it's well into the afternoon now, but they have at least half of it still to go and the evening. Plus the moon will be bright tonight; they've had sex by moonlight before. (On the porch, in the grass, on the beach... even halfway in a tidal pool, once.)

"Ashe," Red says, all but panting the word out. "Ashe. This is-- _you_ , you're... you're amazing."

He could say something, or he could just take this as indication to try for more. The latter sounds like more fun, so he spills more lubricant over his hand and takes a deep breath, pushing all four fingers deeper into Red, past his fingers to his knuckles. They don't want to go at first, but Ashe presses one hand lightly against the flat space below Red's navel, Red exhales, and they slide in. 

Probably a good idea to hold still for a few seconds, so he does, leaning down and lapping teasingly at Red's cock, licking and sucking and scraping his teeth until he can feel Red clenching down on him, feel Red's hips rocking with something like insistence. Or maybe just--no, it's insistence, because when Ashe pulls away Red makes a frustrated sound and tries to cup Ashe's head and make him keep going. 

Ashe laughs; he doesn't have enough hair for that to work for Red the way it works for him. It may or may not be part of why he keeps up with the trimming. "Oh, getting frustrated?" 

"Surprised you're not," Frederick says, but the words come out more of a whine than a statement. 

Must be the high. Ashe wiggles his fingers inside of Red, earning a choked moan in response, and puts a little more lubricant on before he begins to move his hand. Slow at first, painfully slow, but Red's not clenching his teeth even if his breath is less than steady. He'd say if it hurt; he's never been afraid to before. But he _is_ high as fuck, so Ashe decides to check. "You okay?"

(As much as Red's father benefits from Ashe and Red's relationship, he wouldn't welcome the scandal an emergency room visit for anal tearing would bring, along with the inevitable rumors of domestic abuse. Besides that, Ashe has no fucking desire for those nurses to look at Frederick and him and _know_. That's private, damn it.)

He shouldn't have worried, though. Red just tenses around Ashe's hand for a moment--feels fucking fantastic--before relaxing again. The accompanying grin says he did it on purpose. 

"Show off," Ashe accuses, and bites the inside of Red's thigh. 

This time the tensing isn't on purpose, but it doesn't feel any less awesome. He remembers Red describing what it felt like the first time he fisted Ashe, how it felt like his bones were grinding together but in the best way possible, and wanting so badly to feel that tightness around his hand, not just his fingers. Now he is, and it's a heady feeling: the actual sensation paired with the memory of Red's voice, low and feral, describing in filthy terms exactly how fucking amazing it feels to have his entire hand in Ashe's ass.

Red recovers faster than Ashe would've given him credit for, faster than he would've sober, and growls at Ashe, "Keep going." 

He debates stopping for a moment, but decides to keep going. For now. He really does want Red to feel what it's like. Plus he wants to have his entire hand inside of Red so badly he can just about sense the desire rolling through his skin in little streams, like sweat. With each inward stroke, he slides it in a little farther, until the webbing between thumb and forefinger bumps up against Red's hole every time he slides his hand back in, and the slide isn't very difficult at all. 

Taking another deep breath, Ashe adds more lube, rubbing it all around with his free hand before tucking his thumb against his palm, tip half lying in the indent between middle and forefinger. That done, he presses his hand into Red. 

It's not as easy as everything else was. He doesn't have a tiny hand--not as big as Red's, of course--and even with the drug there's still a degree of tension in Red's muscles. But they've already gotten so far; he doesn't try and go fast. Just lets it sink in slowly, slowly. Fingers first, followed by finger-knuckles and first knuckle on his thumb all at once. 

After that it's just a slow, slow press. Ashe doesn't let up and Red doesn't move into it, though he's moaning and grabbing for nothing by the time that Ashe's second thumb knuckle slides inside. Red breaths in deep breaths, letting them out slowly, and Ashe once more presses a gentle hand on the flat of Red's stomach just below his navel. Red presses his hand on top of Ashe's, and Ashe kisses the top of Red's hand, eyes flickering up to catch Red's. "Good?"

Red's nod is more tense than Ashe likes, but he lets out his breath in a low moan then, body shuddering all over. "Yes. Good... _great_."

"Amazing?" Ashe prompts playfully, grinning. 

" _Fucking_ amazing. Now... I see why you--fuck!" The last comes as the heel of Ashe's palm finally sinks inside of Red.

Seeing his entire hand disappear into Red's ass isn't something he would've thought of as a sexy sight, but it is. Deliciously sexy, and better when he twists his hand, rubbing his first thumb knuckle against Red's prostate, because Red's entire fucking body jerks and he groans and, there's his cock getting hard again, too. Ashe bites his lip, shifting his hand a little, careful to keep a close eye on Red's face. There's a faint line between his brows, but not enough to mean that Ashe needs to stop. 

It also means that it's perfectly okay for him to be evil. "Now you see why I, what?" 

"Why you love it so much," Red breathes, and sighs, and groans. The tremble in his limbs hasn't started yet; in spite of everything, he's not near to orgasm. Yet.

Ashe pulls his hand out a little, then pushes in again, deeper than before. He doesn't make a fist yet, instead keeping his hand as it was; the more careful he is now, the sooner he can fuck Red into next week. "Mmm. It's nice to be full, isn't it?" 

"Never been so full before," Red says, looking at Ashe with slightly wide eyes. 

It's exactly what Ashe wanted to hear. He pulls out enough for the heel of his palm to slip out, then pushes it back in, slowly, slowly. "I was thinking earlier--I love the feeling of no more empty space, when you fist me."

Red arches his back a little, groaning loudly as Ashe twists and wiggles his hand, careful not to clench it into a fist yet. He presses his hand down harder against Ashe's, too. "I'm--I'm not sure I'm at that point yet."

Another time, Ashe might've been scared how easily he can predict Red's responses. For the moment he curls his fingers into a fist, tucking his thumb around the outside, and Red's hand trembles on top of Ashe's. Only for a moment, though. After that Red grabs Ashe's hand, hissing through his teeth, and reaches between his legs to grab Ashe's arm. "S-stop. Just a minute. Fuck. _Fuck_ , Ashe."

Ashe takes the requested minute to look Red over, and not in a way that's about making sure Red's okay. This is... not need, but something like it. Desire. Want? No--craving. He craves the taste of Red's sweat, craves the way bits of Red's curls are plastered against his forehead. Craves the half-wild look in Red's eyes, though even that is languid wildness, not the crazy, active sort. There's no way to describe the difference in words, but Ashe has had a lot of practice at reading expressions in general and Red's in particular. 

They have their share of fights--what married couple doesn't?--but Ashe is fairly sure he can't, at this point, live without Red. He definitely doesn't want to live without Red ever again. 

"You look--" Red starts, but cuts off into a sharp sound, somewhere in the grey area between pleasure and pain, when Ashe flattens out his hand again. " _Fuck_ that's so... just, weird. Weird feeling."

Weird, but not in any way bad, in Ashe's book, especially since it distracts Red from saying something that may ruin the mood. 

"Not the usual," Ashe agrees, and experimentally pulls his hand out just a little. Frederick doesn't make a sound, just putting his head back, grips of both of his hands going loose as the heel of Ashe's palm and the bottom thumb knuckle slide out of his ass. "But good, right?"

"Amazing," Red whispers, his fingers rubbing back and forth against Ashe's. "Keep going?"

"Can't believe you thought I'd stop," Ashe replies, low and teasing, pulling his free hand away from Red's for a moment so he can slather more lubricant on the exposed bits of his hand before pressing it inside once more. Red sighs happily, spreading his legs wide again--they closed a little--and Ashe grins to himself, working his hand in an even slower, more careful rhythm than he worked his fingers. 

The last thing he wants to do was hurt Red unintentionally. If Ashe is going to hurt Red, he's damn well going to do it on purpose. But as long as Red stays this relaxed, the chances of him getting hurt by accident are delightfully low.

He rests his free hand where it was before, sliding his fingers between Red's hand and stomach, feeling a happy little flutter in his chest when Red's fingers close around his again, gripping loosely. It goes on that way for a time: Ashe being painfully careful, Red beginning to make these pitiful little sounds and even squirm some, and the sun shining down on them. 

Ashe's sweat drips onto Red's stomach, meanwhile Red's sweat runs in tiny streams down his thighs. He leans down to run his tongue up the hollow on the inside of Red's thigh, shivering happily at the way Red's body jerks and his ass tightens for a moment around Ashe's hand. 

It passes, and Ashe doesn't stop, but does gradually speed up, until his cupped hand makes it in and out of Red's ass with no more difficulty than his fingers. Until Red's moving his hips with each thrust, his fingers gripping Ashe's in truth, trembling a bit when Ashe's other hand goes deeper than usual.

"Ask for more," he tells Red. He knows his voice isn't steady; he can't find it in him to care. 

Red groans unhappily, covering his face with his other hand as he does. "You're... you're horrible."

Oh yes. "The worst," Ashe agrees, and nips the inside of the other thigh. "Now ask for more. Otherwise I'm not going to make another fist, ever."

"You _ass_ ," Red hisses, squeezing his eyes shut tight and then groaning again, head facing away from Ashe. 

"Ask," he says, a short, sharp command. Technically it's cheating; Red's military days make him easier to order than to make requests of when he's worked up. 

"Please," Red barks out, drags in an unsteady breath, and sobs as Ashe tilts his wrist and curls his hand into a tight C, almost an O. "Yes, like that, please... ah, please!" 

If Ashe were really in a toppy mood, he'd demand that Red ask specifically for something, and use Ashe's name, but he is grinning like an idiot by the second please. Red's hands are both beginning to shake and his cock is a thick, slightly convex line with a clear bit of precome stringing the short distance from the crown to the top of Red's hand, still clutching Ashe's.

"Good Red," he says under his breath, quiet so he can hear every sound, every fucking sound, as he tightens his hand into a fist. 

Red's breath catches first, and he bites his lip, but that lasts for all of a second and he gives a choked noise and, finally, when Ashe begins to thrust his fist in and out, moans loud and long. His cock jumps, the head smacking down once, twice, three times against their hands before Red gets the breath for another moan and begins shaking harder, eyes wide open. "Aaaaaasssshheeeee. Ashe!"

 _Not yet_ , Ashe thinks, slowing his fist for a moment, pressing down with his hand on Red's stomach so that when Red inevitably squirms, hips jerking, nothing bad can happen. "Shhh, shhh." Ashe presses a kiss against Red's knee, lets his face rest against it. "Shhh. Red. Frederick. Shhh."

"Hate you," Red says, or sobs. Something in the middle of the two. "I can't... Ashe..."

"You _can_ ," Ashe tells him with complete certainty. It's like this every time they try the orgasm denial thing; Red's really not fucking okay when it first happens, but he comes so, so hard that he always says it was worth it afterward. "Deep breaths. Give me five."

Red's fingernails dig into Ashe's hand, but he does the breaths. Ashe does the breaths with him and tries very hard to not think about how hard his heart is beating, about how dizzyingly erect his cock is.

"See?" Ashe asks, much more than five breaths later. "You're fine, _I'm_ fine, and we'll keep going now." And he does, but without waiting for Red to respond. 

Just as well: Red bites down hard on his lip, like he's trying to deny Ashe the thing that Ashe wants most. It's a petty game, but Red brought to the edge and denied orgasm is a rather petty Red, at least until he comes. (At which point he feels the need to try and prove how horrible it is to Ashe, really, and Ashe loves every fucking second of it.)

But--fisting Red. Ashe didn't imagine it would feel so _primal_ to sit and pretty much punch Red's ass. He thought it would be just like fingering, but it isn't. He rises up onto his knees, putting a little weight on Red's stomach again and fucking Red with his fist. In and out, over and over. 

It doesn't take very long for the trembles in Red's hands to start again, and this time Ashe slows immediately. The trembles don't stop, but they don't progress for a time. Ashe treasures that time, when it's just Red on his back, Ashe fucking him, and Red looking like this is the best sexual experience he'll ever fucking have. He took his arm off of his face at one point and now his eyes alternate between shut tight, Red nearly sobbing out his pleasure, and wide open, Red panting and groaning helplessly. 

The trembles become shudders, and progress to Red's elbows and knees, and Ashe keeps the same pace up. It isn't fast, probably each stroke (in or out, not in and out) about a second long, but it is relentless. He doesn't slow, doesn't pause, even as his muscles begin to ache. Even when his arm starts feeling like jelly, at which point he untangles his hand from Red's and wraps his fingers around his forearm and uses both arms instead of one. 

A lack of something of Ashe's to grab seems to make Red fall apart faster. It can't have been more than half a minute later when his back begins to arch, ass lifting off of the ground, both arms pressing flat against the beach blanket until it's just his feet, arms, and shoulders on the blanket and Ashe is fucking up into him, an angle that lets him get a little more power into the thrusts. 

Red screams when he comes, going so tight around Ashe's wrist that Ashe can't fucking breathe and has to be still. He planned on fucking Red through it, but that is impossible. All he can do is feel his own eyes roll back in his head and his cock throb as Red goes tight, tight, tight around Ashe and screams once, twice. 

Ashe lets go of his own arm and wraps his free hand under Red's hips, so that when Red goes bone-doll Ashe can pull his hand out of Red's ass and ease his hips back down against the blanket. The entire time, Red has this unending, low, pleased sound going on, and full-body shakes every few seconds. 

Luckily, Ashe also has a towel in the beach bag, and he towels his hand and forearm off while Red recovers. He thinks about jacking off, but now that Red's come it feels like the urgency is gone. He just wants to laze about, maybe get a blow job later and see if the drug works on Red's gag reflex too. Also, generally, he wants to share his orgasm with Red. It seems empty to have a quick whack-off when Red is so out of it. 

He also thinks about standing up and getting some water from the house, but then Red opens his eyes and smiles, wide and relaxed. "If I ever tell you... anything's a bad idea ever again. Just... mmm. Remind me of this." 

A surprised laugh jumps out of Ashe's throat before he can stop it. Red was against the idea of growing the marijuana when Ashe proposed it, given its history. It isn't illegal, though; domes made the growing of plants of dubious legality a moot point for a long, long time. 

"Glad I won that one," Ashe murmurs, and kisses Red. "So, mushrooms next? They're supposed to be much easier to grow." 

Red smirks, but it's still relaxed. Still Red, too; he isn't overfond of hallucinogenics, even the ones that aren't only technically legal. "Don't push it."

"Mmmm." Ashe lays down on top of Red, pressing their lips together. "Would asking for a blow job later also be pushing it?" 

"How much later?" Red asks. 

For an answer, Ashe rolls his hips against Red's, letting Red feel what his erection has been reduced to: half-mast. 

Red just laughs and laughs.


End file.
